


Eternity

by AwesomeMango7



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Blood, But the ending is fluffy, Fluff, Gore, Happy Ending, I put Character Death in the tag thingy because Rick technically dies, It gets a little poetic sometimes?, M/M, Only two chapters, Vampires, hella angsty, i promise it’s not all sad, ive never written this much angst before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:09:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeMango7/pseuds/AwesomeMango7
Summary: Morty tried to save him. He tried so very hard.By the time he finally managed to drive his stake through the vampires heart, it was too late. It had bitten Rick in the throat, and ripped out a large chunk of it, leaving his neck a mangled mess of destroyed flesh and blood. It was too late. He was too late. He was too weak to save him.Too weak to save the person he loved.(There’s a lotta angst but I promise the ending is happy.)





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this was inspired a crap-ton by all of the other vampire Rick and Morty fics out there, so I hope it’s not too much like the other ones. And oof, you better prepare for some angst.

 

 

Blood. Blood was everywhere.

It was on the floor, on his shirt, in his hair, caked onto his pale skin. It was hard to even tell whose blood it even was at this point. It was more blood than he’d ever seen in one place before, and _fuck,_ he’d seen a lot of blood in his life.

Morty was shivering violently despite not being cold at all. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Everything was wrong. Everything was so very wrong and backwards. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was _never_ supposed to happen.

Summer was panicking, too. She was rambling about something— frantically rambling. He could see her mouth moving as she spoke to him, but his brain couldn’t process the sound.

She grabbed Morty’s shoulders and desperately shook him. She was trying to get his attention, but Morty couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anything but a loud ringing in his ears.

It had started as a normal day. _How had it turned into this hellish nightmare?_

Turns out, Coach Feratu had friends. It was about a year ago that they’d killed him, but his vampire buddies had held a grudge.

Morty and Summer had begged and begged Rick to help them. Vampires had swarmed the school and took control, keeping everyone hostage and threatening to kill them. After a couple hours of nagging, Rick finally agreed to help them. And he did.

They gathered wooden stakes, and went on a vampire murder-spree through the school, saving their fellow students and teachers. It had gone well. They were _winning._

And just when they thought they’d killed every last vampire, Morty was attacked by one that had been hiding in the shadows.

It pounced on him, sending the teen flying to the ground. He’d hit his head pretty hard on the tiled floor of the school kitchen, his wooden stake skidding across the floor out of reach. He was struggling immensely to keep the vampire off of him, straining his arms as they insistently lunged for his throat.

Unfortunately, vampires had strength that exceeds even past the strength of the strongest human body-builders. Morty didn’t stand a chance as the vampire lunged at him with an excessive amount of force, baring its fangs, ready to literally suck his life away. He’d thought he was going to die— _this was it, he was over._

And somewhere, deep inside of him, he was _glad_ that it was him and not someone else. _Glad_ that Rick and Summer were safe while Morty was the one that took the fall. _Glad_ that the vampire had chosen to kill _him_ over _them._

But before it could even sink it’s teeth into Morty’s flesh, Rick was there like a light flaring in the impending darkness, pulling the vampire off of him.

That’s when the vampire switched gears, and suddenly its furious rage was directed towards Rick, and it lunged at the scientist, tackling him to the ground with a roar of anger. They began to fight, throwing punches, both parties moving to bite the other— battling like their lives depended on it— because it _did._

_Morty tried to save him. He tried so very hard._

By the time he finally managed to drive his stake through the vampires heart, it was too late. It had bitten Rick in the throat, and ripped out a large chunk of it, leaving his neck a mangled mess of destroyed flesh and blood. It was too late. _He_ was too late. He was too weak to save him.

_Too weak to save the person he loved._

He’d held Rick in his arms as he bled out, watching as he choked on his own blood. He’d tried to hold his hand over the wound, but it proved to be useless; blood gushing out between his fingers in a messy stream. He recalled the blood being warm against his hands— warmer than he’d ever imagined it would be. Like scolding hot coffee, straight from the pot.

Of course, he knew it couldn’t have been that hot. But it felt as if it were. It felt too far too warm— it felt _wrong_ for it to be slipping through his fingers like that, _wrong_ for there to be so much of it.

He repeated apologies to Rick desperately, reminding Rick over and over again that he loved him. He had never actually told Rick he loved him, in fear that he might reject him. But he couldn’t help it now. He said sorry so many times that he sounded like a broken record. It wasn’t until Rick reached up and grabbed one of Morty’s shaking hands, smearing some of his own blood across his pale skin, that he finally stopped talking.

He watched Rick with all the focus in the world as he struggled immensely to tell him, in a gurgled, broken voice, that it wasn’t Mortys fault that any of this had happened. He was using his very last moments to try and put Morty’s mind a ease— to reassure him.

And then he was gone. _Just like that._

Like turning off a light switch.

His grip loosend, and the light in his eyes became sightless and dull, pupils blown so wide that you almost couldn’t see the irises anymore. The heat from his body quickly seemed to sap away, leaving him along with the life Rick’s body once held.

Rick was gone, and it was all his fault. Despite Rick assuring him it wasn’t with his very last words, Morty couldn’t stop the crushing guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was his fault for begging Rick to help him. It was his fault for letting his guard down. It was his fault for not being quick enough— for not being _strong_ enough to save him.

His fault.

It was his fault.

Rick’s death was _his fault._

Summer slapped him.

He knew she slapped him, but he didn’t feel it. She slapped him again, and this time he felt a little sting, but otherwise didn’t react. He didn’t fully realize what she was trying to do until the third time she slapped him, knocking him harshly back to reality. The ringing in his ears stopped immediately, shockingly, like someone had paused a record player without warning, and suddenly his brain was registering the sound of Summer’s voice again. The situation had finally managed to process in his brain. He was catching up with reality, an old friend that had left him for a short while.

“Snap out of it, Morty!” She sobbed. “What are we going to do?! He’s gotta— gotta have some science thing we can use to save him! He’s always got solutions to shit— you gotta help me out, Morty!”

There were tears in her eyes, and she was covered in blood, just like him. Her hair was down— something Morty had only seen a couple of times in his life. Her red hair was fanned out around her shoulders and frizzy beyond belief. He couldn’t recall when or how that had happened. “Morty? Morty, are you even listening to me?!”

Morty lifted his hand to cup his stinging cheek, numbly nodding to indicate that he had, in fact, heard what she said.

“Well, come on then!” She screamed, resorting to shaking him again. “You hang out with him all the time! If anyone knows how to save him, it’s you! How do we save him, Morty?!”

There was no way to cure death. Not even Rick could cure death. It was too late. He was gone forever. And Morty wanted to say that. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing that they could do at this point.

But it felt like he was hardly even in control of his body right now. His thoughts were sluggish, muddy, numb, and chaotic all at the same time. He was feeling everything at the same time that he felt nothing at all. His mind, unable to keep up with anything, was letting his body’s instincts drive it.

With an empty, broken tone, he spoke.

“Help me move him.”

He reached towards Rick’s body with shaky hands and peeled back his blood-soaked lab coat, retrieving Rick’s Portal Gun from one of the pockets. It, too, was covered in blood, the red liquid smeared all over the white covering and the syndical tube sticking out of it.

It was one of Rick’s most prized possessions— his most amazing invention— and Morty felt wrong for using it while the man was laid out dead beside him.

He continued to shake as he aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, green light sprouting from the barrel of the gun and swirling into an oval portal. The light looked harsher than usual, burning memories of Rick into the retinas of his eyes. Flashes of his each memory they shared, from both ranges of the spectrum— both good and bad— filled his head, playing inside his mind like a sickening montage.

It felt like his own mind was torturing him by doing this. Rick was dead— g _one._ His body was on the ground, lifeless— empty— _still._ And the memories were running through his head rapidly, recounting each experience, each lesson, each _moment_. They were taunting him, reminding him of the man who was never going to come back.

This was the end of Rick and Morty, a hundred years, forever and forever.

There’s no such thing as forever, and they both knew it would never be able to last a hundred years anyway. It was silly of him to think that they could’ve lasted forever.

_He just wished they had a little more time._

But didn’t everyone always want more time? Didn’t humanity always demand more time, when Father Time himself never gave that time? When Father Time couldn’t give that time without defeating his very purpose in life?

He pocketed the Portal Gun in the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed Rick’s motionless body from under his arms. Summer grabbed his ankles and the two teens struggled slightly dragged him through the Portal wordlessly.

 

On the other side, they ended up in the garage. They carefully placed him down on the floor, and Summer was right back at it with the questions. “So, what do we do, Morty? How do we help him?” She asked eagerly, a petrified yet determined look in her eyes.

Morty stared shamefully at her, responding in that same broken voice. “We can’t.”

Summer balled her hands into fists, staring at her brother in a mixture of rage and disbelief. “Bullshit!”

“It’s true.”

“No!” She yelled, gesturing to Rick. “He’s gotta have some kind of solution to this! He’s gotta have a back-up plan! Grandpa Rick _always_ has back-up plans!”

“Death. Can’t. Be. _Cured._ Summer.” Morty ground out harshly, punctuating each word meticulously. If his cheeks weren’t already covered in a mixture of blood and tears, one would noticed that he’d started up crying again. “He’s _gone.”_

“You can’t be serious!” Summer cried. She began pacing around the room. “No no no, _please,_ this can’t be happening. He can’t be _dead._ That’s insane! We have to save him. We’re _supposed_ to save him. He always saves us, and we always save him!”

 

Morty followed Summer with his eyes. She was heartbroken and in denial. Morty wished he still had hope, but he didn’t— he’d learned that hope would only ever get you hurt a long time ago.

Rick was gone. _Forever_.

_And it was all his fault._

_**It’s all your fault, Morty.** _

“Summer,” Morty croaked, grabbing one of her shoulders. She turned back to face him. She seemed to be searching for something in his eyes— something Morty was sure she wouldn’t find. “There’s nothing w-we can do...” He whispered, voice shaking. “He’s... _gone.”_

Summer yanked her arm away from Morty, suddenly glaring at him. “No.” She said harshly. “No, I don’t believe that. There has to be _something_ we can do.”

 

“There isn’t.” Morty assured sternly. He and Rick had experimented with death before, resurrecting dead birds and rodents with a serum. All tests had ended up unsuccessful. They would either turn into zombie-like creatures, or their bodies would continue to painfully rot and decay even after coming back to life. And even then, the serum would only work for about an hour before they died again. There was no fixing death. Death was death, and that was it.

 

_And Rick Sanchez was **dead.**_

Summers bottom lip quivered for a moment before she let out an ugly sob. Morty pulled her quickly into a hug and she immediately returned the favor as she sobbed into him. They both sunk to the floor like that, holding each other for what felt like hours as they cried.

Morty held on to Summer with all his might, feeling guilty and broken and somehow _numb_ on top of everything. He hadn’t known it was possible for him to feel this bad— this sick— this depressed, and utterly _shattered_. He felt like he had lost everything— his whole world had collapsed in on him like a dying star.

Something hurt from deep within him, and it was worse than any physical pain he’d ever felt.

 

_Everything hurt so much._

The two teens cried and they cried until they didn’t have any more tears to cry. And they just sat there in silence for a long while, holding each other, mourning the loss of their grandfather.

The grief was all-consuming at this point in time, the memory horrifically fresh and vivid inside their young minds. They still sat, covered in blood that was slowly starting to dry on their skin and clothes. It was becoming black and crusty, coagulated and dry from being in contact with the dry air around them. It was no longer pumping through Rick’s heart, no longer serving its purpose in keeping him alive. The metallic smell clung heavily to the air, invading their nostrils piercingly. It was a constant reminder.

Summer didn’t know this, but Rick and Morty had a deeper relationship than they probably should have had. They weren’t _just_ grandpa and grandson, they were much more than that. They were so much more.

‘Lovers,’ would be the more proper term for their relationship, but neither of them really liked to use that word. They had started fooling around about a year and a half ago, the first time they kissed having been kind of an accident due to both of them getting high beyond belief on some space-weed. Their love for each other had only grown since then. Hell, everything had changed since that first day, when they had the first taste of what they could be.

It had started as something both of them had felt ashamed of, but their attractions towards each other had drawn them closer and closer together until one day, mostly due to both of them being in a drunken haze while trying to sort the whole thing out, neither of them could resist. Under the influence of alcohol, both of them had given in. And in the morning, when they woke tangled up together in each other’s arms in some motel deep in space, they both freaked out.

After about a week of avoiding each other after that incident, Morty had finally had enough, and had grown the balls to corner Rick and talk about it. He told Rick that he didn’t regret what had happened, and wanted to just be happy for once instead of suppressing things and hiding how he felt.

 

It had left Rick to think. The scientist was hesitant, at first, because he feared hurting the kid. But... after some coaxing and reassurance from Morty, he’d finally agreed to start something with him.

 

Morty had noted the changes that their new relationship had spurred.

Sure, they weren’t perfect. No relationship could ever be perfect. Rick could be an ass, and he could be manipulative. Morty was sixteen, and was immature and naïve sometimes. It caused a lot of chaos and tension to form between them at times.

But there were so many good things that came from their relationship, too. And to be honest, Morty truly felt that whatever cons their relationship spurred on were worth it for the pros.

He noticed that Rick started to smile more, and he’d considerably cut back on drinking. He was nicer, even to Jerry, despite still hating his guts. He treated Morty the same while also treating him differently— he was no longer condescending towards him, besides occasionally calling him “kid” out of pure habit.

And Morty felt happier. He started getting better grades in school because he wasn’t always too out of it to pay attention in class when he was there. He got smarter and braver on adventures, even leading some adventures himself. He felt more confident, more comfortable with himself and with Rick.

They had fun together. They cared about each other. Life got considerably easier after things started to get a little more taboo between them.

But none of that mattered anymore. Rick was gone, and he was never coming back.

“How are we going to tell mom?” Summer asked, deciding that they couldn’t just sit there and do nothing anymore. It seemed the gravity of the situation was finally settling in for her, too.

Morty pushed himself away from Summer, turning his head so he could look at Rick’s lifeless, empty body. His eyes were still and eerily open, and the ground around him was now stained with blood. He looked away again— he couldn’t look at him right now, knowing that it was all his fault. “I-I-I don’t think I-I can tell her today, Summer. I-I just...” He buried his face in his hands, smearing more blood on himself despite it being mostly dry at this point.

Summer squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. While she had no clue of the length their relationship really went, she _did_ know that they were very close. She knew that they needed each other, and that in some way, they’d deeply loved each other.

 

Morty had always been Rick’s favorite, even above Beth. And Rick had always been Morty’s favorite, too. She wondered distantly if Morty would be able to cope without destroying himself. She’d try her very best to keep him standing, that’s for damn sure. “It’s okay, we don’t have to tell them today...” She said. “But...” She hesitated. “What do we do with him for right now?”

 

She wanted Morty to decided— she wanted Morty to tell her what _he_ wanted. She felt like it would only be right for Morty to make the decisions when the teen was undoubtedly going to be the one that grieved the most over this.

Morty sniffled, forcing himself to stand. He withdrew the Portal Gun from his pocket again and twisted the dial to another location he had memorized the coordinates for. He shot at the wall and once again put it in his pocket and grabbed Rick’s body from under his arms. Summer followed suit, both repeating the action of moving Rick’s body, just as they had before. It was almost sickening how the action was normal so to Morty, in a weird sort of way. He’d moved plenty of dead bodies in his life.

The difference this time was that it was someone he loved...

On the other side, they exited into the underground bunker— directly below the garage. The two teens dragged him to his spare cot, which was in the corner of the room. They adjusted him so that he looked comfortable, despite the fact that it probably didn’t matter anyway...

It was in that moment that Morty understood why people in movies closed the eyes of dead people, as horribly cliché as it was. It was almost sickening to look at.

Rick’s pupils were blown wide, and they were entirely dull and unmoving— like a doll’s eyes. Fluorescent lights were shining bright above them, reflecting in Rick’s eyes, and Morty couldn’t help but think that if he were alive, he’d definitely have spots imprinted in his vision wherever he looked for a few minutes after staring at them for so long.

He had to look away. He whimpered, grabbing hold of Summers arm and squeezing it tightly. He felt like crying again, but he’d cried so much already that his eyes were partly swollen, his throat was dry and scratchy, and he just wanted to pass out and forget the world even existed.

“Lets go, Morty.” Summer said sadly, nudging Morty to walk towards the latter that lead back to the garage.

“I can’t.” He responded weakly. “I can’t leave him right now.”

“Morty...” Summer pleaded.

“Please, just...” Morty was so tired. “L-let me at least say goodbye.” His voice cracked. “Y-y-you can drag me away from him tomorrow, I just... _please,_ I need to say goodbye...”

Summer stared at him, looking at her brother’s quivering, blood-covered form. And she just couldn’t say no to him. She knew it probably wasn’t healthy for Morty to stay down here all alone... with their now deceased grandfather. But... she couldn’t say no when he looked so broken already. “Ok...” She said quietly, pulling him into another hug. “Ok, one night.” She sighed. “I’ll bring you down a fresh pair of clothes and a rag, since you... won’t be leaving.”

The siblings pulled away from each other and Summer did what she said she would. She even brought snacks for him and a few blankets and pillows. Morty thanked her before she left Morty completely alone in the underground bunker.

He sat at the edge of Rick’s bed for a few hours, staring off in to space. He thought about nothing. Well, nothing he could remember, at least. His mind was blank for a while. But the ache inside his chest never left during that whole time.

He finally moved to change his clothes when he felt exhaustion start to settle in. He didn’t bother with the rag, though, so his skin and hair remained covered in dried blood. He left the blankets and pillows folded in a chair, and he reached for Rick’s secret stash of alcohol instead of indulging himself in the snacks and soda Summer had brought for him.

Everything hurt so much. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore. And so he ripped the cap off of a bottle and started chugging. He gagged at first, unused to the feeling of the burning liquid sliding down his throat. He hadn’t had any alcohol for the past few months and he still hadn’t seemed to get over the shock of the taste. He forced himself to push through the burn anyway.

He didn’t want to feel anything. He wanted to die. He wanted to be numb, not just from his thoughts, but from the pain as well. He didn’t want to exist anymore. He hated himself.

And so he drank more.

He drank and he drank and he drank until the first bottle was empty and he was halfway through the second. He drank until he couldn’t see straight, walk straight, or think straight. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t get rid of the pain inside his chest— that festering, throbbing, wound inside his heart that only seemed to expand like a raging, fragile sinkhole.

It wasn’t until he was far past the stages of ‘drunk,’ and he’d thrown up for the third time, that he finally decided to stop. He was so wasted that he was nearly in a comatose state. He was so far gone that he couldn’t even be bothered by the fact that Rick’s body was entirely lifeless as he laid down on the cot next to him, curling into his cold, dead body. He started sobbing again at full force, the guilt slamming into him like a punch to the gut.

Rick’s sent still surrounded his lifeless body, and Morty cried himself to sleep thinking of how he’d never get to hold Rick like this again.


	2. You-Know-Who

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not say, “Blah-Blah-Blahhh...”
> 
>  
> 
> (Sorry lol this isn’t actually a summary for this chapter. But bonus points to anyone who gets the reference!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second, and last, chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Morty wasn’t even fully awake yet, but he already knew that he didn’t want to ever wake up again.

Not when the world he was waking up to would only serve to make him miserable. He was vaguely aware of a dull pounding in his skull (probably from being extremely hungover) and something soft and warm gently touching his face— like it was wiping something away.

He whimpered at the touch, curling into himself. He didn’t know what it was, but he wanted it to stop. His head was hurting so badly.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, M-Morty.” A soft voice said, but Morty couldn’t really tell who the voice belonged to. It was so familiar though, and it irked him that he couldn’t place it. He found himself reaching out to the source of the voice, desperate for some kind of comfort. He felt a hand grab onto his hand in return to his aimless reaching.

He was becoming more and more aware of his surroundings as time went by. He was starting to remember the events that went down yesterday, as much as the thoughts pained him to remember. Was Summer the one that had been talking to him?

It hadn’t sounded very feminine... maybe dad? Scratch that, it definitely wasn’t someone like _Jerry._

The hand that was holding his own was very cold, he realized. Too cold to be normal. The confusion was enough to finally pull him from his half-asleep state, the pounding in his skull spiking up several painful notches.

He opened his eyes, only to come face to face with a pair of crystal blue eyes— the same eyes that had previously been sightless and dead the day before. He yelped and shot up, backing himself up against the wall, the world spinning around him and pain rolling through his poisoned body.

 

_Rick._

 

_Rick was sitting on a chair at the edge of the cot_. He was alive, and moving. Morty couldn’t believe his eyes. He had to be hallucinating, or dreaming, or something! Because Rick was dead, wasn’t he? _Rick was dead._

_Or maybe Morty had actually managed to drink himself to death?_ No, that couldn’t be right... he was in so much pain— his head was _pounding_ worse than it had ever before. He was definitely alive, but god, he wished he were dead. Seeing Rick like this, moving— _alive_ — when he shouldn’t be— _it was too much for him._ Why did the universe have to be so cruel to him? _Why did it have to show him his dead loved one as if he were alive when Morty knew with an absolute certainty that he was dead?_

Rick didn’t look all that surprised by his reaction. He was still covered in dried blood, just like Morty, and he held a bloodied rag in his hand, which he had previously been using to clean the crusted blood off of Morty’s face.

Morty stared at him in shock and complete disbelief. “... _R-R-Rick?”_  His eyes were already growing glossy with tears. It couldn’t be him. _It couldn’t_. He couldn’t handle this. It wasn’t real. Rick was dead, _dead_ , _**dead**_. His own mind was playing a cruel joke on him!

Rick ran a hand through his messy blue hair, looking at Morty with a broken, guilty expression. He looked so _real,_ but Morty knew none of it could possibly be true. “Surprise, I g-guess...” Rick seemed almost as shocked as Morty did.

Morty squeezed his eyes shut as the tears started flowing. This couldn’t be his Rick— his Rick was dead. _He was dead._ “W-who a-are you?” He asked, his voice wavering. His Rick was gone, and if he wasn’t hallucinating, this had to be _some other random fucking Rick._ “Y-y-you can’t be _my_ Ri-Rick,— he— he—“ The teen threw his hand over his mouth, a broken sob ripping from his throat. It hurt so much. Everything was pain, _pain_ , _**pain**_.

He’d never felt to much pain in his life. Rick grabbed his shoulders, a look of worry on his face. “Hey— _Hey,_ Morty, it’s okay. It’s me, alright?” He spoke slowly and clearly, like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

Morty shook his head, struggling against Rick’s hold. “Y-you’re _dead!”_ He sobbed. He was shaking so much, and he couldn’t stop shaking his head in denial. The teen was starting to hyperventilate, his heart pounding inside his ears. “Y-y-you’re not— y-y-you can’t be m-my Rick! You—“

Rick pulled Morty forward and pressed his lips against Morty’s, kissing him slowly and lovingly. Morty cried even harder as he kissed Rick back, holding onto the labels of his lab coat like his life depended on it. He strained to pull him closer, _strained_ to feel every part of Rick that he possibly could.

Rick crawled onto the bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second and Morty laid on his back. Rick straddled him, his cold hands pushing up under Morty’s shirt, trailing slowly along his stomach and to his chest. He trailed the kiss to the corner of Morty’s mouth, and slowly down to his neck. He was doing exactly what he knew Morty liked to prove that it was really him. There was one specific sweet spot that was right under the teens jawline, and Rick knew where it was like the back of his own hand.

And then he froze, all movements going statue still. He was _way_ too close to Morty’s throat for comfort. He could hear Morty’s heart beating, pounding loudly inside of his chest. He could hear how fast his blood was rushing, just beneath his skin. _It was so close, and it was too much._

Morty was panting, his hands still tightly holding on to Rick’s lab coat. He didn’t know why Rick stopped, but he didn’t mind right now. He was probably too emotionally unstable and hungover to get it up right now either way.

But he knew it was really Rick now. Only _his_ Rick would kiss him like that. Somehow, he was alive, and he almost couldn’t believe it. _Rick was alive._ Part of him rejoiced, but the other part crushed him with guilt at how he’d almost lost him.

Rick pulled away from Morty. He continued to straddle the teen, but otherwise, he pulled away as far as he could. He was breathing heavily, staring down at Morty with a strong desire. “T-that enough proof for you, Morty?” He asked, snapping out of his daze and looking worried once again. Rick knew he had to restrain himself right now.

He had never been very good at holding back when he wanted something, but this was _Morty_. The kid was a special case, and Rick would never be able to forgive himself if he indulged in what he almost desperately wanted. He could feel his fangs throbbing inside his mouth, a weird sensation that he’d never experienced before— _but he needed to clear his goddamn head right now._ He couldn’t let this desire take him over. Morty was more important than some dumb vampire-instinctual need.

Morty nodded, sitting up so he could hug Rick. He desperately wrapped his arms around the older man, crying into his chest. He was filled with so many emotions. Relief and confusion were the main ones, but the guilt and the sadness had yet to disperse. He’d nearly lost him, and it was all his fault. All because he was too pathetic and weak to save him.

Rick got off Morty and pulled the boy into his lap, tucking his head under his chin and running his hands through his curly brown hair lovingly. “Y-y-you’re okay, Morty. Everything’s fine. I can’t b-be killed that easily, y-y-y’know?”

 

“How—“ Morty hiccuped as he cried. “H-how are you e-ev-even _alive?”_

Rick carefully pried Morty away from him, and the teen tried his best to suppress the sobs that were trying to force their way out of him. He hiccuped and sniffled, rapidly blinking as he tried to clear the blur of tears from his eyes.

Slowly, Rick opened his mouth and tilted his head up. Morty was confused at first, not really knowing how doing this was an explanation in any way.

But then he saw them.

Rick’s two top canine teeth were elongated, pointy, and glinting in the light.

The realization came crashing down on him like a tsunami, and he gasped. How had he not noticed such a thing when they’d kissed? “Y-you’re— _you’re_ — _“_ Morty couldn’t _breathe._

Rick closed his mouth again, looking slightly uncomfortable with the situation. “A vampire. I know.”

It was all his fault. He’d ruined Rick’s life. Now he was stuck like this forever. Morty buried his face in his hands, the guilt overtaking his mind once again. “ _I-I’m sorry,”_  He sobbed quietly to himself. “I-I-I-I’m so sorry, Rick, t-this—this is all my fault.”

“Hey,” Rick pulled Morty’s hands slowly away from his face, running his calloused thumbs along his cheeks to wipe away some of the tears. He held Morty’s face in his hands, looking at him with small, warm smile. “M-Morty, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

Morty shook his head, pulling his face away from Rick’s gentle hold. “But it _was_ Rick, I-I-I’m the one who— who fucked it all up. I-I-I wasn’t being careful enough— I wasn’t _strong_ enough.” He balled his hands into fists. “I-I-I-I’m so f-fucking _weak_ I couldn’t even protect _you_ Rick. A-all I did was f-fuck everything up. A-and now you’re— you’re stuck like this.” He whimpered.

“Morty.” Rick said sternly, looking into the teens eyes determinedly. He could smell all of the emotions wafting off of Morty pungently. It was the first thing he registered when he’d woken up— the _smell._

It smelt like a rotting corpse, and for a while, Rick thought the smell was left over from when he’d been dead. But he didn’t rot at all, due to his body being in the middle of a transformation. That’s when he’d realized the smell was coming from Morty, and that it was the smell of his emotions— the grief and despair he was going through from Rick’s supposed death. Despite the reasoning behind the smell, it was partly a good thing. It’s one of the few things that had aided in preventing him from drinking his blood the second he’d seen him— the desire had almost been all-consuming.

He had been so damn thirsty when he woke up, he felt like his throat was made of sand paper. And if Morty hadn’t smelled like a rotting corpse, he would have drank him up right then in there. But he didn’t, and he’d managed to retrieve some of the blood he’d been keeping in the refrigerator for an experiment he’d been planning. He didn’t return to Morty’s side until he’d been sure he was able to control himself. He was full right now, and the thirst for blood was only prominent far _far_ into the back of his thoughts.

“You’re a-always strong, and you always have been. Y-y-you’ve saved me countless times.” Rick said, shaking his arms slightly for emphasis. “A-and you _did_ save me t-this time, too, Morty.”

Morty shook his head, a protest on the tip of his tongue. But Rick interrupted him before he could get it out.

“I-I-If that vampire h-h-had drained just a little more blood from me, I-I-I would have really died. But you stopped him in time. Y-you saved me, Morty. Y-you _saved me.”_ Rick had tears in his eyes now himself, and he stared deeply into Morty’s green ones, trying to convey the message he needed to know. Everything he said was true as well. He really had been close to dying, but Morty had killed the vampire just in time so that the transformation could be possible.

Morty looked away in a way that could only be described as shamefully. And Rick’s assumption was proved correct when a new smell filled the air— like rotting garbage in the back of an alleyway. “B-but you’re s-still liked th-this, R-Rick, y-y-you can never— never be the same again. I-I ruined your life.” Morty once again bursted into tears.

“Baby, shh, shh, it’s okay,” Rick pulled Morty close to him, holding the teen to his chest and slowly rocking him back and fourth. “It’s okay, M-Morty. T-t-this isn’t so b-bad, al-alright? I’ve been through t-things that are much worse than this. I— you didn’t ruin my life. A-a-as long as you’re here with me, m-my life could never be ruined.”

Morty hated himself. Rick was the one who’d nearly died, Rick was the one who was suffering, Rick was the one who’s life got completely ruined.

And yet, here they are. Morty balling his eyes out as Rick comforted him. It should be the other way around, but Morty just couldn’t stop _crying_.

“I-I love you, Morty.” Rick said, and his words broke through every single thought inside Morty’s mind, and suddenly every ounce of focus was placed on him.

Morty whimpered into Rick’s chest, his chest heaving along with his sobs as he tried in vain to quiet himself down. Rick had never said he loved him before— it was always just a thing the both of them knew without words. But actually _hearing_ Rick say it— something that Morty _knew_ Rick immensely struggled to tell anyone— meant so much to Morty, more than he could ever express.

_And he couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t deserve Rick’s love._

“I-I... I didn’t get to say it before, but... I love you, Morty.” The older man continued, and his words were slowly lulling Morty into a calmed state— even feeling like he didn’t deserve it, Morty couldn’t help but relax in knowing that Rick didn’t hate him like Morty hated himself. “M-My life has been so much better with y-y-you here with me... even if I really had died, I-I would have died happy, b-because I got to be with you. W-when I-I was bleeding out, Morty, all I could think about was how m-much I loved you, and how glad I-I was that you were in my life...”

He kissed the top of Morty’s head, running his hand up and down Morty’s shoulder. The teen realized, then, that his own body heat was starting to reflect off of Rick.

“W-when I woke up, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, b-but... when I saw you, that’s the only thing that mattered. N-nothing else in the world matters. Just Rick and Morty and their adventures, forever and forever, a hundred years.” Rick rambled a little bit in the way that Morty had always known him to do.

He knew, also, that even when he did ramble, his words always held meaning, no matter what. “ _You_ are the only t-thing that matters to me. A-and you’re here with me, a-a-and I could never be happier without you. I-I don’t care if I-I-I have to drink blood now, or that I can’t go out into the sun. I-I-I can science t-the shit out of the sun part, y’know, I-I can fix that part. And at I least I-I-I know I won’t die before y-y-you turn thirty, y’know, ‘cause before this we both knew I had one foot in the grave already.”

Morty knew Rick was right about that part. It had always been something that he’d deliberately tried to forget about. Rick was old, somewhere in his seventies, he remembered the man saying. _Maybe_ his seventies, he’d clarified. Rick didn’t even know his age anymore, through all of the dimension hopping and time manipulation.

But now the tables were turned. Now _Morty_ was the one who had one foot already in the grave, compared to how Rick’s life now stretched out into eternity. “Rick,” Morty whimpered. “T-turn me.”

Rick went stiff, slowly pulling Morty back a little so he could look at him. “ _What?”_

_“Turn me.”_ Morty repeated desperately, grabbing at the older man’s lab coat and pulling him towards his face. “ _Please,_ Rick.” His voice shook with his desperation.

He wanted it more than anything. He wanted Rick to turn him so that the old man didn’t have to face eternity alone— so that, even if it was Morty’s fault that he had to face such a sad, lonely thing, at least they could do it together. He didn’t care about the consequences asking for such a thing would bestow upon him. He just _needed Rick to turn him._

Rick gave him an almost incredulous look. “Morty, I’m not gonna fuckin’ turn you. Are you crazy? I’d have to kill you to do that.”

“I-I don’t care.” Morty cried, his arms shaking from the strain of holding so tightly onto the labels of his lab coat. “ _Please,_ Rick, I-I-I need— I need you to do this for me, _please.”_ He’d never felt like he needed something so much in his life.

“No.” Rick said sternly, shaking his head. “You’re n-not thinking clearly right now, Morty. _Look at you.”_

_“Rick—“_

“— _Morty.”_ Rick cut him off, holding the teen by the shoulders and pushing him back. He looked at him sternly, his will completely unwavering. “Think about this, alright? Y-you’re asking me to do something fucking insane. This would fucking change your life _forever—“_

“WHAT ABOUT YOU?!” Morty screamed, pulling away from Rick as if he’d burned him. He glared at the newborn vampire, tears still streaming down his face. “YOUR LIFE WAS ALREADY CHANGED FOREVER! YOU _DIED,_ RICK! Y-YOU’RE _DEAD!_ AND I C-COULDN’T SAVE YOU! IT WAS _MY_ FAULT! I-If I’d been _strong_  enough, I-I could have saved you, Rick. But I _wasn’t._  Do you—“ Morty choked out a broken sob. “Do y-you really t-think it’s fair that I get to stay alive, w-when you have to suffer l-like this? W-why can’t I s-suffer with you?”

Rick reached out towards Morty, but the teen only flinched away, chest heaving unsteadily. Rick sighed, lowering his hand. “I-it wasn’t your fault, Morty.” He said softly. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault but that vampires. And... and I don’t _want_ to turn you, Morty. I want you to... to live as normal a life as you can. Do you really wanna be cooped up in the _same_ teenage body you have now for t-the rest of eternity?”

He looked at Morty with a quirked brow, but the teen was silent, staring at Rick as he continued to sniffle.

“I mean, imagine being a kid forever.” Rick went on. “Y-you’ll never b-be able to go into any bars, or _anything,_ really. Everyone will always think you’re too young for everything, and y-you’ll always have to deal with your awkward voice cracks, right smack-dab in the middle of puberty. Do you really want puberty to last forever, Morty? Your mind will grow, b-but you’ll stay just like _this.”_ He gestured to Morty. “You’re still _young._ Trust me, Morty, y-you don’t want me to turn you. You’re just... not thinking straight right now.”

Morty’s face scrunched up in frustration and he laid back against the sheets of the cot, curling into himself and cradling at his head as he tried to somehow reduce the pain. _Why couldn’t Rick just listen to what he was saying?_ There was no way he was going back on this. 

Rick sighed again, standing from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Morty didn’t say anything in response, only curling deeper into himself. Why wouldn’t Rick turn him? He didn’t care if he stayed like this forever. _It didn’t matter_. Nothing mattered except for Rick. _Nothing_. He didn’t want to lose him again.

Morty didn’t have to wait more than a minute for Rick to return. He could sense the old man standing in front of the cot, even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Sit up.” Rick said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the cot next to Morty and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Morty slowly peeled his eyes back open and forced his body to move into a sitting position once again. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging harshly at the strands.

Rick grabbed his hand and slowly pulled it away from his head. “Morty, relax. Y-you looked close to pulling your own hair out. Look at me.”

Morty’s eyes drifted to Rick, and he saw the old man holding a syringe filled with a dark blue fluid. “W-what’s that?” He croaked, voice scratchy and rough.

“I-It’ll make your hangover go away.” Rick explained, placing a hand on Morty’s shoulder and pushing his sleeve up.

Morty slowly nodded in understanding.

Rick held the syringe close to his skin. “R-ready?”

Morty nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut.

Rick slowly pushed the needle into his arm, and Morty whimpered at the light pinching feeling it elicited. Rick pulled the plunger, releasing the blue liquid into his body. As he pulled the needle out, Morty felt an almost instantaneous sense relief wash over him, the pain in his head reducing to a barely-even-there throb. He felt his entire body relax from its previous tensed up demeanor, and he sighed contentedly as he slumped against Rick heavily.

The old man struggled to maneuver around him as he placed the syringe on a nearby side table. “Better?” He asked, petting at Morty’s hair once again.

Morty nodded slowly, wrapping his arms around Rick tightly. “W-why won’t you turn me?”

“I already told you, Mort.” Rick sighed.

“Rick...” Morty’s voice broke and he felt even more tears brimming in his eyes. “Y-you’ll watch me grow old a-and die, Rick... d-don’t you know that? Y-you’ll l-live forever, and— and— and... and I’ll be forced to abandon you along the way... _Please,_ Rick, I-I don’t want you to have to face that alone... I’ve already hurt you so much...”

Rick’s entire body grew tense at Morty’s words, but the teen only held onto him tighter, burying his face into his chest as he fought to keep his tears at bay. “Will you get it through that thick skull of yours that this isn’t your fault, Morty?” Rick sounded at the edge of angry, but not quite. “Y-you did _everything_ you could—“

“ _But it wasn’t enough._ ” Morty whimpered.

“But that’s not your fault, Morty.” Rick reiterated for the billionth time. He began to run his hand up and down Morty’s back in an attempt to make him loosen up a bit. He needed to just _relax_. The kid was being too hard on himself— Rick had known all too well that Morty could be like that sometimes, but he’d never seen it this bad before. “Look... I’ll make you a d-deal, alright?”

Morty lifted his head up at Rick, a curious and still-broken look on his face. He seemed desperate for some sort of compromise.

“If y-you still want me to to turn you when you’re, let’s say...” Rick paused for a moment, thinking about a good age to turn someone. “Forty years old? I’ll turn you.” And he meant what he was saying. It was weird to think that he’d actually be alive when Morty became that age.

“R-really?” Morty asked in a hopeful tone. “Y-you mean it?”

Rick nodded slowly. He in no way _wanted_ to turn Morty— it seemed like a cruel and messed up thing to do. But only letting him make the decision when he was forty was the best thing he could think to do. By the time Rick was that age, he’d finally become unafraid of death, and he’d grown to except and embrace his mortality, and the fact that one day his life would end. Maybe by then Morty would be okay with his mortality, too. And Rick would feel much better turning him at that age rather than fucking _sixteen years old._

It also gave him plenty of time to convince Morty not to do it. He had twenty-four _years_  to convince him, and Rick hoped he’d be able to do it.

“D-deal...” Morty said, and Rick could smell something other than rotten corpses for once. It was more of a floral sent— happy, content, relieved. But there was still an underlying pain. Rick couldn’t blame him for still feeling some kind of hurt... Rick would feel the same way if the roles had been reversed.

“I love you, Rick.” Morty said. He could wait that long if he needed to. He didn’t care what Rick said, he was going to keep to his decision— forty might be years away, but he was somehow _sure_ that he wouldn’t change his mind.

Rick could tell that the teen was already drifting to sleep in his arms, so he laid down against the cot, pulling Morty along with him until they were both wrapped in each other’s arms. “I love you, too, Morty.”

 

 

 

  


* * *

 

Summer, expecting the worst, slowly began climbing down the latter that lead to the underground bunker where her brother was surely still residing in.

When she made it to the bottom, she was surprised to realize that it didn’t smell like rotting corpses, as she’d expected. She’d dealt with dead bodies before, as dark as that was for her to think about. And not even an hour after someone died, they started to _stink._ So it didn’t really make sense to her that she didn’t smell anything as bad as she was expecting.

She turned around, curious as it what was happening, when she saw her brother and grandfather both curled up on the cot together.

At first, she felt uncomfortable, thinking that her brother was sleeping next to their grandfather’s rotting corpse, but then he heard a voice.

“Summer?”

Summer’s breath caught harshly in her throat, and her eyes widened into the side of dinner plates. _That was Rick’s voice. No fucking way. How did Morty manage to bring him back?_

She stared at Rick and Morty— Morty was passed out, curled up next to Rick, who was _staring at Summer from across the room— alive._ Rick was fucking looking at her! And he fucking _waved to get her attention._ He was alive! _Alive!_

The red-head felt tears build up in her eyes as she sped walked over to the cot. “G-grandpa?” She whispered, reaching out to him like she just couldn’t believe he was really _alive._

Rick reached his free hand out to Summer’s own hand and grabbed it tightly. The red-head let a few tears slip down her cheeks from the sheer amount of relief and joy she felt from confirming that he was _really alive._ “Hey, Sum-Sum.” He whispered back.

Summer held his hand in both of her own, tears of joy streaming down her face as she looked at her grandfather in awe. “How?” She asked, giving a weak but genuine smile. “You— Morty said it was impossible to bring you back.”

Rick chuckled lightly, but there was something off about it. “Well...” He said, looking off to the side uncomfortably. “I k-kinda-sorta got... _turned_... Summer.”

Summer’s eyes widened once again. “You mean— you mean like...?”

“Got turned into a vamp?” Rick supplied for her, noting that both of his grandchildren had been reluctant to say the word _‘vampire.’_ What was he, _Voldemort?_ “Exactly correct, Summer. Golden star for you.” What was usually condescending was suddenly friendly banter.

Summer hated to admit it, but she felt pity for Rick in that moment. She knew that being a _vampire_ wasn’t all it was sometimes chalked up to be. It meant that you had to face eternity all by yourself while you watched all of your friends and loved ones grow old and die before you. She squeezed Rick’s hand. “I’m sorry.” She said simply. Sorry for not being able to save him. Sorry that he had to see each of them die one day. Sorry that he had to live forever and never find peace in a natural death.

Rick smiled up at her. “Don’t be. It’s alright. _I’m_ alright.”

“How’s Morty holding up?” She asked, focusing on her little brother, who was curled up to Rick’s side, his tiny fists gripping tightly onto Rick’s lab coat, even in his seemingly deep sleep.

“H-he’s doin’ better than before...” Rick said, looking down at the brunette with worry.

“I couldn’t get him to leave you last night.” Summer shook her head. “He... he was so broken.”

“I know.” Rick sighed. “I saw... but... but I think he’ll be okay. He just needs time.”

“He always bounces back somehow, right?” Summer chuckled quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah... but I don’t think it’ll be so easy this time...” Rick was still looking at the small teen, a look of worry and concern etched deeply into his face. Summer had never seen Rick look so worried over the brunette before— it was almost sweet, if not for the reason behind the worrying. Morty had been so deep into grieving within mere _moments_  after Rick’s death.

Summer couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to see someone so hurt over your own death. “He’s strong, Rick.” The red-head assured, truly believing every word that came from her mouth. “He’ll make it through. I’m sure of it.”

Rick sighed. “I hope so...”

Summer slowly released Rick’s hand, their fingertips gliding against each other’s hands before they finally released each other. “I’m gonna head back up, alright? I came down to tell Morty that lunch would be ready soon, but... you guys are kind of preoccupied right now. I’ll stall for a while, okay? But make sure he heads upstairs to eat the second he wakes up, alright?”

Rick nodded. “Will do, Summer.”

The red-head headed back up the latter and disappeared through the hatch.

Rick looked back down at Morty, running his hands through the brown strands of his hair. He looked more peaceful in the sleep he was having now than the one he was having earlier. He knew Morty would be alright. They could work through this whole situation, Rick was sure.

They’d get through this together.

 

 

After all, it had always been Rick and Morty, forever and forever, a hundred years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Tbh this story as been sitting in my files for like a whole year. I’m not even joking. Like, I started writing it so freaking long ago and I kept coming back to it every once in a while to edit and refine it. I’m really proud of the first chapter, and I’m pretty satisfied with the second one. Sorry it wasn’t more vampire-y, with like blood-sucking, and stuff like that. The main emotion this fic was meant to convey was more along the lines of losing the person you love most in the world, and then having them spontaneously come back, y’know? That’s like a huge fucking rollercoaster, like holy shit, right? It was also more about the thought of having to face the rest of eternity, (hence the title). Living forever might seem like it would be really cool, and maybe some of it would actually be pretty awesome, but everyone would just die around you and no one you know would ever last long, compared to the infinity of your own life. It would probably get pretty damn lonely if you really think about it. 
> 
> Sorry for rambling so much. XDD I tend to get a little existential sometimes. It’s fun to think about concepts such as infinity. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the story!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate it! There will be a total of two chapters, so another one will be on the way, hopefully tomorrow.


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